his sun kissed face buried in my neck
as he whisper words going through my head
he feels so cold between the sheets of this bed

cheap thrills, blue pills, wounds that can't heal
red lips against my skin, giving me chills
but i love him too much for me to keep him

i am barely breathing
   tell me this is not my destination
   i just want to ask you something—

is this where i truly belong?
  i am trying! oh god, yes, i am!
  when did it all go wrong?

all the lies i fed myself—it is becoming real
   i have always known it
   i was never meant to heal

they noticed everyone else's pain but not mine.

we're alive but
our souls are
rotting in hell

i don't know how to fix this anymore.
should i let go of myself now?

between these dried leaves
in the middle of a forest
we create monsters inside us
as waterfalls overflows

i want to hear
your voice
when i'm alone
at night past two;

i want to ask
too many questions
but you don't
want me to;

i want to know
if she's still the one
but i already
figured out the truth.

he thinks i am confusing and complicated. someone he can stare at for hours but someone he's afraid to open up his heart to.

if only he knew how much i love simple things; like the pure beauty of kindness and affection that feeds my soul; like handwritten letters and frank sinatra songs that mesmerizes me; like jazz and the sound of the rain that calms my mind.

if only he knew, i just want to be loved—faithfully, unconditionally and truly. no secrets, no lies. nothing in between.

if only he knew, like scenery and arts, i'll love him as long as i can.

if i survive this drought,
does it make me tough?
or does it make me cruel
for not calling your name?

sorrowful chapters are necessary
let me protect the situation
it wasn't the stabs that cut deeply
no one speaks about it; what a shame.

he’s drunk in love
knocks on her door
when it falls apart

how come i perceive?
her feverish face
while his tongue flicks;
the truth and secrets—

her kisses, her touch, her;
i can tell everything is a necessity
how you move your body enticingly

everything is nothing to you
she kisses you because it's true—
you’re everything to her while you
only loved the moon.

stay pretty and silly
be like your mommy
who has been there
ever since you were a baby

don't be like your daddy
his behavior is a bit aggresive
he likes to throw things
and he's always drunk and lonely

stay pretty and silly

You have the most pleasant touch,
most pleasant eyes, most pleasant wrinkles.
Kotschka, you have turned me into a fire
without knowing it, without seeing it.
Now that you do, look at me and show
me remorse, and give me your condolences.
This is my very first time saying this:
I died when you looked at me
and I died when you said 'hi.'
I died when you smiled,
and I died again when you touched me.
This is how it's going to be, but know
that I can die again and again
as long as it's for you and because of you.

you look through the beauty inside
you look through the beauty outside
but you don't know the beauty of pain

i beg for your
forgiveness—

at times
that i am distant
for sadness is a fear
i face with vulnerable eyes.

at times
that my silence
seems anger to you
when i'm finding the light.

at times
that i won't let you
see the tears
behind every white lie.

i will come back,
i always do;
but for now,
i beg for your
forgiveness.

i'll be good,
i'll be fine.

everything's going to be
good and fine.

that's my mantra starting today.

i think i have always been so tender with everything, but it crushes me every time. every person i loved, they always choose someone else over me. i guess that's how it's always been, and getting used to it was easy for me.

i feel as though i am a misplaced dirt. i don’t belong here. i don’t fit in anywhere. it seems like every place i go to will be a strange memory. like a mere fog in the city transporting your soul into vulnerability, allowing you to surrender your weeping soul. some days, the sadness consumes me. stop this ******* pain! oftentimes, when i am alone, in the dark corner of my bedroom, i say this to myself. beating my chest intensely, missing the warm glow i once had, preaching the power of internal monologues i purposely created to fabricate a picture where i am pure and glistening. but this isn’t me. i am beseeching the gods above us, have mercy on me! the unknown cause forcing my bones to feel the ache. give me the silver blades to end this madness. open lungs, dampen pillows and deep desires to take a new gaze upon the world. but the misery keeps my hands *******. the fact that i have the ability to commit a mistake drowns my body in the ocean of disappointment. hush, put me inside the coffin instead. i made my own bed. this impulsion to start anew is nonsense. the absence of one’s emotions used to make me puke. i have never known how people can easily forget a face, not until i lost myself, and to realize everything about it is a fear i will endlessly think about—for breathing the pure poison of the world is easier. i will never be the same. i will never be the same. i will never be the same. the eccentric aftermath will always be bittersweet. in the blink of an eye, i forgot my own face.


(ACT I. THE DEATH AT THE SINNER PARTY)

so much to say,
but don't know how.

the hardest part
is not being able
to talk about it

people only start caring when you're deadly skinny.

there is a fine line between being kind and being naive that people often mistakenly thinks they are the same but let me tell you something—being kind is treating someone with your utmost respect while being naive, well, it's the same as being kind; only you will forget to put yourself first.

what no one has ever told you about the devil, is that they aren't real.

my mother gave birth to a rose with pure innocence. clementine, raspberry, oh! look how sweet she looks like. the glow she produces, everything her fingertips touches becomes stardust, and her stares can feel bittersweet - get burned or ache for bonfire inside your home? either way, you will discover how hungry you are for the thrill and torment.

beneath the pillows is the pain - how easily forgotten, but it will never stop regardless of how many white dandelions she will plant at her backyard.

her bones marbled amongst the other, calm a crocodile upon its attack, distance - that's what she's good at. i wish this dampen cloth made from grief does not cloud her judgment. she made too many ruined choices, embarked on a journey alone once or twice, sew the torn sheets, spilled four caffeine - and still, all she knows is how to look at the stars with tearful eyes and buttermilk aroma smile. naïvety. a great trap, i suppose.

   ; don't you know how much i want to drown those lovely sins? it makes me think of the galaxy i once felt, and like metamorphosis, it turned into wishful skins, then slowly, burned into ashes as i try to nurture the wooden skulls. i shouldn't have done that.

will you light an aggressive fire for me?
look what you made me do

... the devil, perhaps, it's within us.

your storms—
something my eyes
is willing to see

love isn't something you have to ask from someone.

rose petals run my mind back then
now it's all about silver blades
that draws a long line on my wrist

[1] truly, i belong to no one. but unfortunately, my heart keeps yearning for love. i believe it does not make me a desperate woman. for me, it only proves that at the end of the day, we all covet attention, touch, sweetness, and love, of course. if i have given the chance to keep the ones i felt a connection with, i thought maybe, i can fix few parts inside their soul that would make it work. but they proved themselves that they're just a season - and i wish they weren't.

[2] they came barging in, questioning themselves. what have they done long-ago or who they truly are? the eloquence denotes an adoration. they threw pebbles in the fountain and wished a happy ending, illustrating the comfort and triumph we could get. no, they didn't say the endless possibilities. just that. indecision arises within and the injustice won, and just like in everyday life, it occurs often. it's humiliating to admit how i almost drowned in the lake where i supposedly am only wearing a silver lining but instead, i wore a discolored crown and a cheap jewel. nevertheless, i giggled, of course; who wouldn't? oh yes! my future self will call it deceptive. but isn't it?

[3] i saw a blotch of paint on my arms. a raspberry bruise on my knee slowly vanishing as i tried to stroke the brush onto the white canvas. the art is looking more forlorn than it was thirty-two minutes ago despite the cerulean clouds and ginger-colored paint dripping. there's a feeling of dissatisfaction that seems to linger—no, let me rephrase that. it’s like a sting in my heart, just like how needles can abruptly make your fingers bleed, or how someone can touch your soul except they can swiftly **** you twice. shut your eyes or shut the door? would you even dare to choose? i cleared my throat before picking up the paints on the floor. if this is a dream, i will not protest.

[4] the deities, whom i described as righteous, superior and unbeatable, declared a plague where humans become bellicose. in a piece of paper, i wrote it all down and carry it in my pocket every now and then. i believe this is how we, the mortals, should be; someone who has a sense of right and wrong. but the latter ones love contradicting the divine. so i guess, this is a sentence. i told them no! i will never be one of them! but i cannot decipher their faces. there's a slight uncertainty on the surface because of my undeniable convictions. i am a woman, after all.

[5] i believed in rainbow-like reality. my soul grew up in a household full of love, trust and maybe a few adventurous spirits. the clash of unfair judgment and misconception doesn't seem to matter. we're all different, point taken. yet, it did not disrupt the petals budding in meadowland; something i pictured in my head when i was five or seven years old. i simply believed in love, and loving them could be the ultimate cure to wounded hearts. for me, there are no bad people, only a damaged one.

[6] i tried to soften my heart. again and again and again. but it seems useless. do they enjoy betraying the trust? do they like sinful beginnings? do they love being an untrustworthy person? i cannot fathom their reasoning and logical thoughts. apart from the fact that they make my heart aches, terribly, they think dominance is the only way for me to think that they're in control - and that's the most disgusting thing.

[7] my ears cannot disregard the heavy steps between the whirlwinds that disturb the bushes. i've talked to the owls last night and they said you were wide awake the whole night. they told me how frustrated you were with how things turned out. how awful! you know i can't call the ambulance - not because i can't do anything about, but because i really don't want to.

justice hurts when truth prevails. suffocating, isn't it?

[8] i have no idea how to swallow my bruised ego. excuse my ignorance - does it sound foolish? coming from the mouth of a woman laying her head down, scorned repeatedly by the hands who willingly pushed the wine barrels from the top of the hill, resulting in unstoppable motion.

my cardigan tenderly wrapped around my body, i felt the skin cuts, the remorse for letting you all in, the storm brewing, sorrow - all at once.

don't you dare tell me i did not even try!

You know I read your books, right?
You've always fascinated me with your eyes -
very sparkly, dauntless, always looking for an ending.
The truth will be out, and I guess you will never
linger again with your systematic veins to which
I have become attached. Like a weapon in the making,
your silvery hair creating a shimmer across
my bedroom window. And it stains the whole atmosphere;
when you left and went back with your hobby -
knitting, fixing everyone but yourself, and to cavalry, too.
They're burning your throat, but you insist on saying
that you're becoming more at peace and unbothered,
like a succulent, but I don't see it that way.
I see lots of empty pieces behind you
and the places you went back in that no one thinks
you did. As well as the people you tried to ran away
from and the people you've left behind, only to find out
that they are the one. I am the one.
Don't worry, you've always been sunlight. I'd still pack
your bags when we go for a trip together,
and I'd still cook your favorite dish while
you scrutinize my behavior. Am I your date or your lover?
Don't you think we've come so far?
Don't you think I read you too much like your books?

(1676)

"drop your weapons,
don't leave the discourse"

well, I've thought about it when nobody's here
my hands cannot cover these shiny tears
our hearts cut in half,
my wings plastered and sore
from falling into the depth
of broken silicon.

my mind might be rotten
but I'm elegantly withering
like a burning chauffeur
in the middle of the autumn,
and will be absolutely unforgotten.

we've forgotten
loud voices and
unkind words
can break a heart

we cry because of pain
not because we beg
for sympathy

you made me
feel like i'm a trash;
you're the reason why
i don't trust myself that much

the worms start to crawl on my belly. my innocent desire is only to express my moonlit thoughts without being scrutinized by desperate mouths, eating cockroaches instead of vomiting snake skins. p r e t t y little thing, they say. no one sees the facade. but to me, the prettiest thing comes from the abandoned houses, yelling in shame, intimidated by the oppressors.

but do oppressors really matter? i think not.


(ACT I. THE DEATH AT THE SINNER PARTY)

does her face
still flashes
when you close
your eyes?

does her name
still put a smile
on your lips
despite every lie?

do you only remember
my name when you're
drunk and tired?
—when you can't call her "mine".

the water from the shower continues to run down. my back against the wall, trembling hands, smudged mascara on my lashes. people's eyes always imply to act proper. i will always be a   /l a d y/   but oh, i think i will never be free from their expectations. frowning face, stern behavior, bitter truth—they loathe it.


(ACT I. THE DEATH AT THE SINNER PARTY)

how deep do we still need to dig?
for these wounds to heal or disappear
i understand what you've been through
but if you still love her, don't make me a fool

i guess
i love you
is the hardest thing
to say